The Siege of Os Alta
by SocialDisease609
Summary: Fjerda is up to their jurda parem nonsense again, and has found a way to alter it to nullify a Grisha's powers! After dispersing it in a biological warfare attack, Fjerda invades Ravka with a massive force! In a desperate attempt to save the Ravkan strong-point that is Os Alta, Commander Nazyalensky orders all Grisha to be armed with rifles and blades! King of Scars: Nina x Hanne
1. Chapter 1

Ravka had finally became what Fjerda feared: a militaristic superpower, reaching a million Grisha soldiers in their ranks across the entire country. King Nikolai sat on the Ravkan throne, with a polished crown adorned on his head, and the coffers looking healthier than ever. He had done it: nursed his country back to health, thanks to the influx of immigration and scientific advancements. They were approaching a new renaissance and Fjerda knew they had to act fast. The Ravkans could not advance before them- before the rest of the world. Surely the Ravkans would hunger for expansion and domination after tasting progress.

But Fjerda had not been idle. Their scientists worked hard and long, through the nights and for days on end, modifying _jurda parem_ in a way where it completely paralyzed a Grisha's power. And when they had accomplished the exact composition they needed, they launched the most covert mission in Fjerdan history. Their agents dispersed and infiltrated all edible trade products to Ravka and domestically produced goods. They blended the powder into sacks of sugar, flour, and grain- injected the serum into things like sausages and barrels of wine and ale. The Grisha ate as they did everyday in their mess halls, dining to stay strong, while the civilians seemed to frequent the doctors at a curious rate.

King Nikolai of Ravka sat in his war room, reaching for a golden lipped cup of tea as he read the reports of the ill. Nikolai himself wasn't feeling too well these days either.

Zoya intercepted and took the tea from his hand, taking a sip first herself. "I believe it's something in the food," she simply stated. "An attempt to sicken the workers of our labor industry is a good way to cripple our finally healed economy. Whatever poison it is, it isn't strong enough to effect the system of Grisha, it seems."

"I'm flattered, Zoya, that you would risk your life over a potentially poisoned cup of tea," the king asked in his normal charm. "But I'm sure I'll be just fine. I can risk a little fever chill for a good breakfast."

"It's strange though…" Zoya sat down, ignoring his comment and still holding the cup and saucer. She gazed at the natural wood pattern on the table. "Why a biological attack on everyone except Grisha? Wouldn't it be smarter to take out the military?"

"An attack on the civilian populace could mean Fjerda isn't in the business of conquering at the moment," Nikolai shrugged, reaching for the ginger cookies piled on a plate next to the golden tea kettle. "They're just trying to push us down the economy rungs again."

"Still…" Zoya said. "Something doesn't add up…"

"Who knows, maybe they have attacked our Grisha, just in a different way?" Nikolai offered, watching the gears spin in her mind. "Maybe that's why the soldiers seem to be getting lazier with training."

Zoya nodded absentmindedly. The Grisha were slacking on their training, especially the ones who had lived her longer. She expected newcomers to be weak at the start, but having the higher ranking enlisted soldiers pull off their laziest execution of exercises this whole week was ridiculous. To have them understand just how disappointed she was in their performances this week, which was rapidly declining the closer the weekend came, she ordered barracks restriction, forcing them all to stay within their lodging for the weekend. No drinking, no bedding, no exploring. Not until they got their act together.

A knock came from the other side of the door. Both looked up.  
"A disturbance on the war room," Nikolai wondered aloud.

Zoya stood up with little patience and opened the door.

"Yes?" She asked.

On the other side of the door was a scout drenched in sweat, bags under his eyes, and his eyes were practically bulging. His purple _kefta _torn in a few places.

He saluted Zoya. Nikolai grimaced- the boy's mind definitely wasn't altogether present. There was no need to salute an officer indoors. He paid no attention to Nikolai, which bothered Zoya.

"Bow to your king," she scolded, lip curling in disgust.

The boy startled. "I am so sorry, _moi tsar_!" The boy practically shrieked as he bowed. Nikolai waved it off uncomfortably. "My Commander, there is no time to lose! The Fjerdans are here!"

Nikolai felt the world collapse in perspective, everything rushing towards him.

"What?" Zoya asked, her hands balling into fists at her sides.  
"They have already crossed the villages in the outskirts north of Os Alta. I was the only runner to escape their firing!" He was shaking.

"How could they have over-powered the boarder forces?" She demanded him to report.

"Our abilities, they are gone! We couldn't fight back. They shot at us, tore us all down with bullets. I don't even- saints, I don't even know how I'm alive!"

"How are your abilities gone?" Nikolai asked, standing up from his chair.

"I don't know, Your Highness. I don't know."

"Tsar," was all Zoya said, walking out of the war room. She wanted him to follow her, and he did, with the scout behind them.

As they quickly journeyed through the halls, they made it up a tower. Zoya leaned against the stone of the wall, gripping it tight as she thought, looking at the ranks of grey uniforms coming forward on the horizon.

"How?" She whispered to herself. Slowly, she held out her arms and closed her eyes, moving them slowly in motions, trying to grasp onto a storm. But nothing summoned. Zoya tried once more, her brows furrowing hard with concentration, but still, nothing produced. Zoya swallowed hard. Nikolai could have sworn he heard her heart beating in her chest from the fear.

"Rally the Grisha," she turned to the scout. "Tell them all to assemble on battle positions in defense of the palace and city walls. Tell them all to gather rifles and blades. We can still defend our home."

The scout saluted once more, this one Zoya returned, and he scattered away into the tower, skipping a number of steps at a time until he disappeared.

"Well I guess we figured out how they affected the Grisha," Nikolai muttered. "We need to summon the other guards as well. We will need soldiers on the lines who use the sword and firearm as their main means."

"Agreed," Zoya said, taking one last look at the marching masses before turning back for the tower steps.

"And I will need to equip my blade and pistols," Nikolai nodded to himself. Yes, he would fight for his country, too.

Zoya turned on her heels. "Nikolai, no, you must stay in the palace. I won't let them breach."

"Don't be ridiculous, Zoya, I indent to be there leading my people."

"You must stay inside, you have no heir, if you die, the country falls."

"If I die, the country has you."

"Don't start that again," Zoya warned, placing her hand on his chest. It was meant to warn him, to stop him from moving forward, but it just made them both feel warm.

"I won't fall, I promise."

"_No one_ can make that promise," Zoya said.

Nikolai reached up, cupping her right cheek. His soft thumb caressed her skin for a moment before he kissed her nose. "I will not sit in a chair as Ravka is ravished." He could see anger in her eyes, but they were also glassy from worry. "Will you die for Ravka?" he whispered to her. He wanted to lean in, an ethereal desire to capture her lips into a kiss.

"Gladly, over and over," she said with pride, however the volume of her voice was low to match his.

Nikolai's eyes felt heavy, and he gave in, leaning forward. "So would I," he breathed, and kissed her.

"Everyone, go, go, go!" Shouted a Lieutenant, waving his arms frantically in an ushering motion. "Fill the wall! Fill the wall! Fill the wall!"

Grisha ran frantically from point a to point b, rifles clutched to their chests and pistols or short swords and ammo pouches strapped to their belts.

"Is this everything you've ever dreamt of, Jesper?" Nina asked as they migrated with the frenzied crowds of Grisha soldiers. "A firefight of mass proportions?"

"Definitely," Jesper said, a grin on his face. "However, a full-on fort battle? I'm better with handfuls, not battalions, but we'll see, I just might learn something new about myself today."

They found a spot on the wall that hadn't been claimed yet and kneeled into cover.

"You see them?" Jesper asked rhetorically. "Thousands of Druskelle! Finally with the guts to take us on…"

"Yeah, they just had to practically make us drunk to do it though," Nina muttered in disgust. "Cowards."

"Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do to win, I guess," Jesper commented, looking up and down the horizon.

Nina counted ten formations, but that was just the horizon line. Who knew if there were many more behind them.

A commotion was buzzing among the soldiers to the right of them.

Annoyed at having a distraction from the _very big_ problem in front of them, Nina looked to her right through the corner of her eye. When she saw what was garnering all the attention, she punched Jesper in the arm to get his.

"Ow!" he interjected, touching his arm.

"Shut up, stand up, Commander Nazyalensky is here."

The two of them stumbled up to their feet, as everyone else did too.

Zoya looked absolutely furious, a rifle in her hand.

"Glad she's fighting with us," Jesper said.

"She would never _not_ be in a fight like this…" Nina said.

"Grisha!" Zoya addressed. "The Fjerdans are here to take Os Alta, there is no denying that with the mass they have brought to our gates today. They have already destroyed the villages to the north. For those of you who had homes and families there, thanks to those soldiers coming towards us, you no longer do, and for those of you who have family here or too the south, they're at risk. They think they have tied our hands behind our backs by stunting our powers, but they're wrong. I want everyone single one of you to look at what the Fjerdans are carrying with them. What do you see?"

There was a moment of silence before Grisha all about peppered their response: "Rifles and sabers…"

"And what do we have?" The Commander continued.

"… Rifles and blades…"

"If the Fjerdans can come here with these weapons, we can meet them with these as well. We will not lose simply because we do not have our powers. _This army_ is one of the fiercest armies the world has ever seen, and _we will_ defeat the Fjerdans at their own game! We will kill them with their own swords! We will fire upon them with the very weapons that give them confidence! Today, they will see that the Grisha will _always_ be a force to be reckoned with, and that we cannot be tied down! We are unstoppable, and deserve our place in this world! Standfast, and give the Fjerdans a warm Ravkan welcome!"

Nina, Jesper, and the others raised their rifles up and down. They began chanting for their commander, for their king, for their country. The cry vibrated the ground and echoed off the towers and buildings. The Grisha knew the Fjerdans could hear them, so they continued on in confidence:

"_Ura! Ura! Ura!_"


	2. Chapter 2

The Fjerdans were the first to fire, as anticipated. The long rifles sprouted an enormous cloud of smoke from the barrels as they all fired at once, like a dragon exhaling after a breath of fire. Bullets shattered chunks of the stone walls towards the ground as Grisha cowered from the first firing.

"Fire back!" Zoya growled the order. "Grisha don't cower!"

_There's a difference between cowering and covering,_ Nina thought to herself, flexing her fingers around her rifle. She and Jesper stood up at the same time and didn't bother aiming precisely, just at the grey mass of Fjerdans. They would hit someone by aiming for the middle of the formation. Pulling their triggers, the cracking of the rifles made Nina's right ear pop. Two men in the Fjerdan forces fell. They had five rounds per cartridge, and Nina was going to fire again, if it weren't for a bullet that whistled past her ear.

"This is crazy," she breathed, ducking once more and wishing she could use her powers to slow her heart rate. The Fjerdans fired again and it rattled the stone wall at her back. Nina shut her eyes and could hear Zoya and other officers' voices shouting commands, doing what they could to motivate. More rifles were going off from their side of the wall as Grisha found their courage to quickly slip from cover. Finding her own courage again, Nina stood up to fire one, two, three shots, thanking the Saints that the Ravkan government had secured an arms deal from Novyi Zem for repeating rifles.

Jesper, of course, was in his element, firing off rounds with contest-wining precision. Nina thought she even saw him smiling for most of it. For a while she thought it was going well for a couple of minutes there, until a Grisha to her left was shot, blood bubbling from their lips as they fell to their knees and then slumped backwards onto their back. Then more and more fell all around her, as her countrymen tried to pick off the Fjerdans at the ground below. When someone fell, another Grisha stepped forward to take their place. And it went on for hours and hours on end, as the Fjerdans gained no real ground. It was later revealed that their main goal for this attack was to dig a maze of trenches behind their main battle formations, and as the sun began to set behind the hills, and scattered among the Fjerdans began to play a bugle, one after the other.

Every Grisha knew what it meant from their training: a call to end battle for the night. They looked to Zoya, whose chest was heaving with adrenaline, her hair pulled back in a ribbon and blood all over her kefta and some splattered on her cheek. Would she honor it? Would they get to rest too? Their stomachs were empty and their hearts were ready to faint. Would they get to rest?

Zoya raised her hand and shouted, "Cease fire!" Everyone shuttered in relief, lowering their rifles.

"Commander Nazyalensky!" Shouted a voice from the battlefield. The hair stood up on Nina's neck and Zoya surveyed the battlefield of invaders ahead of the wall. Jarl Brum, legendary commander of Fjerda stood tall among his men, chest out with pride and arms at his side as if at-attention. "You have until sunrise to surrender, tell that to your king." They could all see his smirk from here.

"You'll find it takes a lot longer to kill Grisha!" The Commander shouted back.

"Tell that to the dead," Brum smiled and turned around to join his men who were dropping into the trenches.

Nina sat on the floor, her knees pulled up to her chest as she cupped her tin of hot soup, her rifle leaning against the wall at her right. The night sky was darker than she had ever seen it. Was it all the ignited gunpowder hanging in the air still? She blew at the steam of a spoonful of her soup, thinking about what lay before them come morning. She knew Zoya wouldn't be getting any sleep, and possibly not the king or the rest of the Triumvirate; they would be working hard all night to come up with strategies to save the palace, and all that remained of Ravka.

But Nina didn't really want to wait and find out.

"Jesper," she whispered.

"Why are you whispering?" he asked, right before taking a sip of his own tin cup.

"Want to sneak out?" she continued in her low voice.

"Like desert?" he questioned in disbelief.

"No," Nina scoffed in disgust. "More like, let's go spy, sabotage or something."

"Is that really a good idea? If we're caught disrespecting the ceasefire, we'll be responsible for what happens to everyone else afterwards."

"We won't get caught," Nina assured.

After Jesper had agreed, they stashed their _keftas_ under a bush by the gate and promised their friends posted as sentries that they would be successful- this would definitely save everyone's lives. They slipped through into the shadows, crouching low and slow as the purposely reached the outskirts of the Fjerdan lines. They hadn't collected all their dead yet, as Nina had hoped. Quickly and clumsily, the two changed into the Fjerdan uniform and shouldered their particular firearm.

"This is perfect," Nina said, working on her hair to fit it under the Fjerdan military cap. "We can sneak in easier now, find out their numbers, find secluded officers and assassinate them, sabotage weaponry. Let's find their gunpowder reserves and drench them with water."

"Great plan, what a massacre it will be in the morning when they all try to fire upon us with wet powder." Jesper grinned. "No ignition whatsoever. They would have to surrender or be slaughtered."

They made their way to the trenches after slipping past the patrolling guards, and were astounded to see some alleyways wide enough to accommodate tents. Not everyone got the luxury of a tent, however, and many of the Fjerdan soldiers slept outside, heads drooping or resting on each others' shoulders.

"Where do we start?" Jesper asked, his stomach now turning into knots.

"_Sluta_!" came a Fjerdan command.

The two froze instinctually. Nina could hear the soldier's boots crunch the gravel and dirt as he walked. As he came around, Nina was chilled by his ice blue irises, which flickered with the torches stationed every so meters down the trenches. His blond hair was long and tied into an impressive braid. His uniform seemed will cared for, even though it did have some dark patches, no doubt from the smoke of firing his rifle all day. Nina recognized that he wasn't just a soldier, he was a _druskelle_.

"_Vad gӧr du_?" he asked. He was wondering what they were doing.

"_Patrullera_," Nina muttered, deepening her voice. She hoped he would believe their were just on patrol. His eyes squinted, testing the response in his mind. Then he looked down their uniforms. He _tsked_ and shook his head.

"_Du är skadad. Gå och se sjuksköterska Brum_."

Jesper's face blanked, completely unfamiliar with Fjerdan, but trusted Nina to see them through this with her linguistic genius.

"_Ja, herrn_," Nina nodded. Yes sir. She cursed herself for being impatient and not checking the quality of the uniforms. The amount of blood from the dead soldier who wore these clothes was too much to pass of as just a simple battle wound, and now they had to make their way to the nurse that was somewhere on these fields. Just how would she find where they were?

She could hear the soldier sigh angrily behind them, then mutter something about privates being too dumb to even find the medical tent. He marched in front of them, leading the way, his hands clenched into fists in annoyance.

It was quite a walk to the medic's tend, but when they were there, the _druskelle_ pulled the flap of the tent open and ushered them inside.

The two obeyed like scolded children.

"Matthias!" the only nurse inside turned upon their arrival. Nina blushed.

The young woman's russet hair was falling out of her bun, evidence of uninterrupted hours of work, and her cheeks were blushed from exertion. She had at least thirty stretchers in this tent, and the dead simply were pushed up against each other on the floor as if they were sleeping. The men on the stretchers were out cold, under the heavy spell of healing-sleep.

The soldier and the nurse began to talk, and the nurse sounded a little exasperated, mentioning something about there being other nurse stations out there that still had room. He apologized, but she waived him off, saying it wasn't actually a bother, she just needed rest. She would see to them and then find another nurse to continue the watch after her.

The _druskelle_ named Matthias then left the tent, leaving Nina and Jesper with the nurse.

Jesper leaned over to Nina, "We gotta kill her," he whispered. Nina nodded slowly in agreement, keeping her eyes on the beautiful nurse who approached them.

"_Kan du Kerch_?" Nina asked. The nurse was startled at the request, but she nodded.

"A little," she replied.

"I only ask because he is a Zemeni mercenary hired by Fjerda, but doesn't know much of the language," Nina began story-weaving.

"Interesting," the nurse said, drawing out her words. "I did not know we hired mercenaries."

"He hates Grisha," Nina continued. "Couldn't fight them on his own, so he joined our cause."

"Of course," the woman continued. "Please, remove your coats. I must see to your wounds."

"We are fine," Nina said.

"The bloodstain says otherwise," the nurse pursed her lips.

"Look, liste-"

Jesper reached out, grabbing a bottle of some rubbing alcohol and smashed it over the nurse's head. The woman fell to her knees, clumsily trying to steady herself.

"What are you doing?" Nina asked incredulously, looking at the nurse and the wounded around them. The soldiers strangely hadn't stirred.

"Oh please, Nina. What were you gonna do when she found out we weren't hurt? Storytelling means nothing if it's gonna be blown in two seconds." Jesper retorted.

"We can- we…" Nina didn't know what she was trying to say, or what she actually had planned. She figured she didn't want to kill this girl, even though she was nursing to health those who could end her life.

"Gotta kill her." Jesper said.

"And then what? We have achieved nothing, we have nothing to bring back or to sabotage."

"Killing a nurse helps the cause," Jesper shrugged. "And we can steal all their medical supplies too, bring them back to our people."

_Our people_.

"Wait," the nurse mumbled, her hand going to her head, touching it gingerly. Her hair had come down with the hit, and was dripping in the alcohol. Nina and Jesper turned to look at her. "Please, don't." She raised her other hand, reaching out as if expecting one of them to pull her up off her feet, and then Nina felt it.

Sick, lightheaded, murmurs of her heart. Nina's breath trembled out as she called the nurse by her true name:

"Grisha."

"What?" Jesper's eyes widened. "A _Fjerdan_ Grisha?"

"And a healer," Nina whispered with purpose, switching to Ravkan. Oh, did she have a plan now. Jesper wasn't fluent, but he would know this: "Let's take her."

The nurse panicked at the change in Nina's eyes, and tightened her grip on Nina's heart. Nina stumbled and fell to the ground, feeling her toes and legs tingle as the blood was kept from circulating. Nina wondered why the nurse didn't go for a killing blow. She suspected it was more because she was a sheltered Grisha with no training instead of the fact that she chose not to kill.

Jesper crashed himself into the nurse, slamming her into the ground.

"You better let Nina go," he growled, straddling her hips and placing his hands around her neck. "You'll die here if you don't."

She let go of Nina's heart alright, instantly too, and Jesper knew she had when Nina took a dramatic intake of breath, but it was only because she had another target in mind. Jesper convulsed on top of her, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. The young Grisha was learning quick, and she looked pleased with herself.

But Nina knew they could beat her, the nurse didn't know how to control more than one enemy at a time, a skill Nina had mastered before her powers dwindled from the biological attack. She reached for the rifle that she came in with. She wasn't gonna fire of course, that would bring attention to the tent, if the commotion hadn't already. Putting force behind her attack, Nina dropped the butt of her rifle hard on the top of the nurse's head.

The woman instantly lost consciousness. Jesper slumped off the woman and laid down beside her, his chest heaving and his fingers trembling.

"I never want to feel that again," he breathed, his face shining with sweat.

"You doing okay? Think you can help me sneak her out of here?" Nina asked. "We can, I don't know, put her in a Fjerdan uniform and say we are just taking the dead to a less crowded tent…"

"Just might work," Jesper admitted. "Let's get to it then. Let's swap out of uniforms too, while we're at it."

"We can't have you stay," Zoya shook her head, her arms crossed firmly. Her eyes were closed and her brow was furrowed. Her locks of hair were still tied up in her ribbon. She had not done anything for herself since the battle. They we

"I won't leave the capital," Nikolai said firmly, sitting down at the dinner table. They had all tried to eat together as their soldiers did outside the palace, but no one could really speak a word that wasn't about relocating Nikolai. It was to save Ravka they said, give the nation a chance if the Fjerdans did end up taking the capital. But Nikolai refused each proposal. "If I leave, the soldiers won't fight as hard, they will give up. It is a message to them. I cannot abandon them."

"_Nikolai_," Zoya sighed, rubbing her forehead.

Nikolai's chair scrapped the floor as he stood up. His boots sounded on the wooden floor as he walked over to her. "Zoya," he said. "You need to eat, please, even if just one bite."

"I'm not hungry," she growled.

"That's battle talking," Nikolai assured. "But you need to take care of yourself. Eating will help you lead. The soldiers fight, you fight. They sleep, you sleep. They eat, you eat. Don't deprive yourself. I need a strong General." He had said it to encourage he, but Zoya had simply opened her eyes and replied:

"Well I need a live king."

Nikolai dropped his arms in surrender. "You have him!"

The fireplace crackled as lumber snapped under the heat of the flames. Nikolai frowned as Zoya continued her defensive stance, arms still crossed.

"What battle plan are you thinking off?" Nikolai decided to ask after a moment of collecting himself. The stress and fear of protecting Os Alta, and Ravka as a whole, was getting to the both of them.

"Perhaps reduce the number on Grisha at the walls. They haven't shown any tools for how they plan to storm the walls. No hooks, no ladders, no battering rams. I don't know what they have planned. I'm afraid they have cannons and we just haven't seen them just yet. I just… I don't know how to protect them."

"We will win, Zoya. I know it seems impossible right now because we don't know all the variables, but we will win." He put his hands on her shoulders, and she looked at him with those blue eyes he loved so much. Nikolai had loved his time on the sea, loved the deepness of the waters and the waves, all liquid sapphire. He found a home at sea, and found that same connection when he looked in Zoya's eyes. Perhaps it was the world's way of predicting her to him. A storm at sea would remind him of the magnificent storms that could be summoned by her fingers. Nikolai knew that adventure aside, he loved the sea because every wave and every storm connected him to her memory.

"And even if…" it had to be said, "Even if we lose Os Alta, even if Ravka loses me, and loses you, there won't be an end to Ravka. There are heroes all among our people. Someone will rise and save this country and Grisha. Someone will. Ravka will live forever."

Zoya said nothing, but uncrossed her arms and moved forward to hold him, her hands resting on his back as she laid her cheek against his chest.

"What luck we have," she whispered, tightening her embrace. "To have found each other only at the end."

Nikolai lifted a hand and tilted Zoya's chin up. "No more of that," he said, "We have until sunrise. Let us live until then. It's not over yet."

Zoya leaned up and kissed him. It never stopped feeling forbidden. He was her king, he was her fellow soldier, he was a friend. So many dimensions, and they only added to her affection, something she had learned to keep untouched by public notice.

"Imagine it, Zoya," Nikolai said as they broke their kiss, wearing his famous smile. "After this battle," she watched him, dejection in the reflection of her eyes, "we are going to completely _destroy_ Fjerda." Zoya's eyes revitalized with excitement, and her lips curled up in a smirk. That was the kind of motivation she needed. "They're finished. You, their Nightmare, will tear them to pieces, with your bear hands. And when they cry out to you for mercy, asking why you attack them so ferociously, you let them know its what they asked for by doing what they have done to you and the other Grisha. And Jarl Brum… my love, you can do _everything_ you want with him."

A part of Nikolai felt ashamed for stoking the flames of Zoya's bloodlust, but he knew her. This was the victory speech she needed, this was the type of motivation that would affect her.

Zoya leaned herself back on his chest, and he would hold her there for as long as she pleased.

"Nikolai…"

"_Da, moi lyubov_?"

"Tonight, let's-"

The door to the small dining hall slammed opened, spurring Zoya and Nikolai to jump away from their embrace. In the threshold of the door stood Nina Zenik, Jesper Fahey, clothed in Fjerdan uniforms, and with a third person Zoya could not recognize.

Nina seemed frazzled, running under the energy of war, but took a second to look between Zoya and Nikolai.

"_Chto_?" Zoya asked, standing tall, annoyance in her voice. What?

"Zoya," Nina addressed. "Don't be upset,"

Nikolai could feel the anger that came with Zoya's deep inhale. Everyone knew that something worth getting upset over usually followed those words.

"Don't get upset," Nina continued, "But Jesper and I decided to infiltrate the Fjerdans in the trench camp, just to help us out in the morning. We planned on sabotaging gunpowder and such, but we could not continue our search because we ran into her." Nina motioned an open palm in the direction of the third individual. This woman had her hands bound behind her back and a fabric gag in her mouth.

"And who is she?" Nikolai asked.

"_Moi tsar_," Nina bowed quickly, "This woman here… this Fjerdan is Grisha."

Zoya's face bleached of color.

"A Grisha with powers still intact. And a healer at that."

Zoya then quickly walked over and grabbed the Fjerdan nurse by the collar.

"Zoya?" Nina questioned. "I… I figured we could use her to heal our wounded."

"Oh, of course," Zoya stated suavely, her eyes searching all over the nurse's frightened face. "But there are some things I need to ask her first…"


End file.
